


Paws for Talons

by Flyingbirdietimmy



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Circus, Court of Owls, Death, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingbirdietimmy/pseuds/Flyingbirdietimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate is a cruel mistress. For some they find love and good fortune, others struggle to survive with the hand they are dealt.<br/>Two orphans bond over a tragedy only to be forced apart once more through the devious masterminding of the Court of Owls. Tim searches for his lost friend clinging to the hope he is still out there. And he is... with the assignment to kill Tim.</p><p>Batman begins to train two others whom begin to discover they make the perfect team...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I love You Because

Tick- tock- tick-tock. The antique auburn clock was the sole sound in the pristine living room of a very well off family. A small boy sat, legs tucked up to his chest, swallowed by the large, black leather recliner. His eyes frantically scanned the page of the classic novel before him, and he held his breath in anticipation, having already discerned the outcome, but anxiously awaiting it nonetheless.  
Two heads peered into the room, giving each other a knowing glance before softly calling the name of the boy. As was habitual, he paid no heed to the call. He meant no disrespect, for it was unintentional, and he was simply too engaged in his book. A tap on his shoulder had the book flying from his hands, subsequently followed by a startled squeak. “M-mother!”  
The boy’s mother laughed. It was such a joyous sound, and it instantly put the startled boy at ease, even to the point he gave her a belgard look. The melodic lilt of her voice massaged away the lingering feeling of displeasure from having been interrupted. In it’s stead he grew flustered at his abrupt reaction, and looked to his amused father for assistance. His father, who had been standing off to the side and had witnessed his son’s plight, chuckled and set his hand on his shoulder where only moments ago his beloved wife’s hand had rested. “It’s okay to express yourself. No one can shut themselves off to emotion. Not even you.”  
The boy wrinkled his nose in disagreement, but refrained from voicing such an opinion. His mother soon broke out in a grin, having remembered the purpose for their disturbance. The hand she had been holding behind her back for the duration of their visit, she removed, revealing a paper that had been rolled up. Cyanic eyes twinkled with excitement as she pressed it into the now free hands of her son. The boy’s own cerulean eyes sparked with life as his curiosity became aroused. As gradually as he unrolled the paper it vanished as the bright colors with overly extravagant cartoon details bombarded him. His eyes fell upon the large yellow text in the center of the page that read ‘circus’. His initial impulse was to throw it as though it were a literal rather than metaphorical bomb, but a quick glance revealed such joy in his mother’s face that he couldn’t bear to cause it to wither. He pretended to study the poster for a few moments before he looked up with a forced smile. “Um… what’s the poster for?” he asked despite already having a sinking suspicion he knew.  
“We are going to the circus!” came the harmonious unison of his parents combined voices. They seemed to catch the fractional droop of his forced smile and his slow blink. His mother’s face fell along with a brunette lock of hair. “What’s the matter, hun?  
He knew he couldn’t lie to her. She probably already figured it out, so he went ahead with his admission. “It’s just… the circus is so strident. Why can’t I stay home and curl up with a book?”  
His father cleared his throat, displeased with the course of this conversation, but already knowing their son was far from ‘outgoing’, the conversation had been rather predictable. “It’s not that we want to inhibit your reading, but that is what you always do. We thought it would be a nice change of scenery and this would provide an excellent bonding experience as a family. We’ve never taken you to a circus before.”  
The boy considered this briefly. It was true he had never been to the circus before, but he was familiar with such attractions through his exposure to media and literature; Never in his short life had he any motivation to attend one. For that reason, he would not go. His father had also played the family card, and small though it was, he admired his family very much. That was his tipping point, and as thoughts of them filled his mind, his smile widened into genuine joy. He jumped up and hugged them both. “Of course I’ll go! I love you Mom. I love you Dad.”

~~~

“Weeeeee!” Laughter emanated as shortish raven hair wildly whipped about, attached to a young boy who had taken it upon himself to complete the most consecutive flips in a row on a practice trapeze. A crowd of supporters clapped in rhythmic unison, encouraging his progress. Their cheers incited him to pick up his speed to the point where he was pushing the limit of his capabilities to remain in control. He had amassed a dangerous momentum, and in one fateful misstep his hand slipped, the remaining hand lasting just long enough to direct his path into a vertical climb.  
“AH!” It was hardly the first time he had done this, and if he were to be honest with himself, he adored the freefall that followed, even if it sent painful jolts to his knees upon landing. He groaned and attempted to climb to his feet, but this time had more severe consequences than previous attempts. His knee was unable to support his lean mass, and he tumbled down, catching himself with his hands. He rolled onto his back with another groan as he mother rushed to his side. She ran a hand along the joint then squeezed, earning a pain filled yelp from the boy. Her hands continued to travel up and down as she felt along, trying to get a sense of his internal injury.  
“I don’t think it’s too severe, but you won’t be performing tonight, little Robin.”  
“What?!” He sat up, wanting to protest, but ultimately finding it futile. She was right. He could get badly injured if he attempted to perform, especially because they were acrobats who were too proud to use the net. Normally he wasn’t too concerned about safety, but this was a risk where the stake was too high, and he was in no mood to battle it out with his parents. He sighed and allowed his mother to hug him. “You’ll at least let me watch from my perch though?” He grinned and earned an eyeroll from his mother, though the effect was compromised by the grin on her own face.


	2. Bad Day To Go To The Circus

The hour of the show had come at last, though the would be acrobat was both excited and tormented by this knowledge. Loud, upbeat music blared through unseen speakers, igniting excitement into the hearts of the young and old alike. The boy sat, dangling his feet over the edge of an eight story dive of death, his feet kicking to the beat of the music, one leg slow in response due to a knee brace. The spotlights began to circle as the main lights dimmed, fog poured out in wispy tendrils that failed to impress the boy after the billionth time. He knew it was just a cheap effect to build excitement as the acrobats began their trek up the ladder. He pulled his legs up and leaned over the edge as they drew near, watching them with interest from the best spot under the big top.  
Having stretched his own wings in a few shows as a ‘stellar addition to an already sensational act’, he knew flying was more fun than simply watching, but he was content either way. It never got old to watch his parents fly with such grace and ease.  
His brilliant azure eyes caught those of his mother’s as she tousled his dark hair, the familiar grin of her coming flight appearing. “Alight little Robin, pay close attention. You may be the up and coming star, but there is always a few things you can pick up.”  
“Have fun flying mom.” He smiled, ignoring her comment before he grew frustrated with his knee once more.  
“I always do m’boy.” She winked as if having read his thoughts, and with a light laugh she dived off the platform. The length of her dive drew a collective gasp from the audience. The boy broke out into a large grin as she expertly caught the tranquil bar and redirected her momentum, releasing it at just the right moment that she was able to perform a triple flip to her target. His father followed with a nod and a wink to his son, catching the swinging trapeze his wife had upset the moment before. The way they managed to soar through the air with perfectly timed leaps, it wouldn’t have been a far stretch to say they didn’t have wings, until those wings were put to the ultimate test.  
About halfway into their act, the boy’s father hanging upside down, arms out to catch his mother. She grasped his forearms, he grasped hers. The way they looked into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two in existence made him believe they shared a love of the truest form. The boy was only just beginning to think about such things, and the love between his parents was beyond his comprehension.  
SNAP! The unthinkable happened. The trapeze broke, unable to support their combined weight. Time froze as the little boy’s heart leapt into his throat. “Mo-MOTHER! FATHER!” came his strangled cry as he knelt on the edge of the platform, arms extended towards them as though to reach out and grab them, though he was much too small and far away to be of any use. “NO!” he screamed, hysterical and so utterly helpless to do anything but watch them collide with the ground, bodies folding and bending in unnatural angles, a sickening series of cracks rippling with such intensity that even from such a distance he could hear them. The boy, in his close attentiveness of his parents, missed the collective gasp from the audience, and anything else that followed. He sat back for a minuscule moment, horrified. Denying that they truly had met their demise, grasping a strand of false hope, he began to scramble down the freakishly long ladder, ignoring both the aching in his knee and the complete chaos that had unfolded around him.  
~~~  
Shock. That’s what he was experiencing. He was completely frozen with it. He never wanted to come here in the first place. Why had he agreed? He did not want be here. It was foolish to comply. He knew that now. Circus’ were bad. There were so many other ways he could have done ‘family bonding’. But it wasn’t their fault they picked a day that would leave him with mental scars. They hadn’t known this would happen.  
He shook off the shock and covered his ears with his hands, eyes slamming shut just before the moment of impact. It was painfully apparent he couldn’t prevent such an event from happening. He couldn’t even convince himself it wasn’t real. It felt so very wrong, and despite the flicker of morbid curiosity, he couldn’t bring himself to watch. Acrobats were /not/ supposed to die by falling. They were the courageous that inspired the masses with stunning feats that defied death. They weren’t human. Humans were full of error. Even now, it was hardly the fault of the acrobats, it appeared to be equipment malfunction; It was more than he could take.  
Hidden cerulean eyes could not protect the boy from ‘seeing’ the moment of impact. Even with hands muffling the sound of bones snapping, he could hear it clearly, possibly amplified by his own imagination. Complete and utter chaos erupted in the wake of their death. Bloodcurdling screams sent shivers down his spine. Rustling, and swooshes of movement he attributed to people leaving in quite a hurry. Even for such a shocking death, the reaction seemed a little overkill until his eyes flicked open and he found himself staring into the black, round abyss that made up the barrel of a gun. A firm hand grasped his arm and forcefully yanked him backwards, causing him to stumble a bit. The hand, soft and small, moved to his back and pushed him in the direction of the large, red neon ‘exit’ sign.  
“Run Tim!” she screamed. He stood for a moment with combination of indecision and fear as the click that indicated the safety had been removed met his ears. Then it went off, and his mother’s scream was cut off abruptly, almost in the same moment it started. A sudden surge of adrenaline snapped him out of his daze, though he found himself heading back towards his mother. It was the deep scream of his father that made him question his direction, and though he physically felt his heart shattering at the choice, he turned and fled, the adrenaline forcing him to run so fast he didn’t have time to dwell further on his rampant emotions. His mind swiftly worked to analyze which gaps between sea of people would fit his small frame in an effort to escape the person with the gun.  
The further he ran, the more the crowd began to thin as people broke off in search of their cars. On the average day, Tim was sure he could figure out how to hotwire his parent’s vehicle, but as it was right now, his mind was much too preoccupied. He doubted he could even break into it. He increased his already expeditious pace and ran until his immediate danger was replaced by colossal evergreen trees and the silence of a forest, save for his own labored breathing and the pounding of his runners against the uneven ground. His adrenaline expired, and the moment it did he collapsed, a sob escaping his curled up form.  
He hadn’t seen them die, but the probability of their survival seemed slim. With the unclear memories he had, he attempted to determine what happened, but he simply lacked information. He wondered if perhaps there had only been one gun that rendered him unlucky, or if this had been an organized act of terrorism. It hardly seemed coincidence. In fact, if Tim himself were to organize such an event, it would have been of a similar construct. An initial panicked distraction with the appearance of accident to place people in a state of shock then gunners to plow them down. He shivered in disgust and forced the thoughts from his mind. These thoughts were only making him more upset. It was possible the shots were non-lethal and his parents were alive at this very moment getting medical attention. Nonetheless he allowed himself a good five minutes of crying before proceeding to pick himself up and scale a tree. Dead or alive, his parents would want him to continue on, and he knew a tree would be a lot safer than the ground in the event a gun-bearing man decided to come this way.


	3. Nice to Meet You I Guess

The son of the acrobats hovered over the once life filled bodies of his parents. They were still warm and limp, but it was the large pool of crimson blood gushing from their heads that made him painfully aware of their departure from the physical world. He sank to his knees and cradled the head of his mother, oblivious to the blood seeping into his clothing and everything else around him. He grasped his mother’s hand, heat radiating as though she were still alive, but the pulse was gone. He stared, numb, but so very near to cracking. How could he deny this evidence? He wanted to think his mind was tricking him, and any moment they would sit up and tell them how much they loved him. Tears sprang into his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, his face remaining a stony mask. “Mother…” he whispered, the only word that managed to get past the block in his throat. He let out a strange mix between a rasp and a sob as he pressed his head against hers, the tears trickling down his face and onto hers. He drew back and brushed them from her face with a finger but he was unable to keep up with the waterfall coming from his eyes. “Mom!” His voice cracked and he shook from the force of his sobs. “Please no… Don’t go… Don’t leave your Robin…”  
A gentle hand was set upon his shoulder, and the boy turned to see the dark knight himself, Batman. “It’s not safe here. You need to go.” It was probably just his imagination, bit he thought he detected a note of concern in his voice.  
The boy shook his head and rested his head on his mother. “N-No. I- can’t le- leave. I won’t!”   
He was rather roughly pulled to his feet. “Kid, go.” When the boy dropped his weight in refusal, he was pushed into the arms of the ringmaster who happened to be there at that moment. “Get him out of here.”  
Richard Grayson screamed, kicked, and clawed in a desperate attempt to get back to his parent’s side. “Stop it!” With no real alternatives around, he tossed into a trailer and locked inside. He pounded on the door in fury, and when that failed to work to work he took his frustration out on the rest of the trailer and its contents. He eventually became so overcome with grief that his legs gave way beneath him. He rolled onto his back and began to cry for what felt like hours until exhaustion seized him and he slipped into a restless sleep.  
~~~  
The boy in the tree woke up, except he found himself in a trailer rather than a tree. It took him a moment to piece everything together, and he feared he had been kidnapped until the contents directed him to the conclusion of rescue. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, a think wool blanket slipping from his shoulders. The need to know grew too strong to keep him stationary. He scrambled to his feet and tugged on the handle, which to his relief, swung open with relative ease. A group of men stood talking, solemn expressions worn.  
“Excuse me, misters!” Tim took a few cautious steps towards them, his courage wavering under the serious expressions that had now been directed at him. His eyes shot downward, picking out a tall blade of grass. He remained silent for a moment, collecting his courage. “Um… what happened last night?”  
The men exchanged looks of concern, and one knelt down to look him in the eye. “Someone poured some type of acid on the supporting wire of the trapeze. The falling acrobats served as a distraction for a group of armed terrorists, their numbers ranging from 10 to 20. They are on the loose as we speak.”  
The other men wore expression ranging from shock to anger to impassiveness. One of the angry men began shouting. “He is just a boy! You shouldn’t have told him that!”  
“He just became a man yesterday! And he deserves to know that he is in danger!” the first retorted, causing the others to grow somber once more.  
“What?” Tim stared at him in confusion, unsure if he was following correctly.  
The man sighed. “You are the kid who fell asleep in the tree correct? Last name Drake?”  
Tim felt dread growing in his chest. No. He wouldn’t believe it until he heard it flat out. Maybe his parents were at the hospital and had asked someone to look for him. That had to be it. After all, he had been right about the shootings. He had to be right about this. His fists clenched and he finally responded with a curt “Yes.”  
The man looked away, and Tim was finding it harder to cling to his hope, for he felt sure he knew the words that were to come. “…. Your parents are dead. Is there someone we can call to look after you? A friend or relative?”  
The boy felt a strange disconnection, and he went numb. He ignored their questions and walked back to the trailers, sitting down on the step of one. “Dead…” he whispered, eyes wide and glassy. “This is all my fault.”  
He didn’t have time to cry, for as soon as the words slipped from his mouth he heard a muffled sob behind him. It was coming from inside the trailer, locked from the outside. Slowly he unlocked it, not caring about the consequences of such a choice. For all he cared it could be a murder that would kill him too. Good. He deserved it. Instead his eyes fell upon a trembling boy, curled up in a thick blanket, his appearance making Tim think he wasn’t much older than himself. Despite his own pain, or perhaps because of it, he felt a flicker of compassion tugging at his heart. He gradually progressed towards the boy and placed his hand on his back the same way his own mother had done so many times for him. The crying boy shuddered, but his trembling soon ceased as Tim began to rub his back, eyes still blank and staring into nothingness. The other boy looked up, eyes red and blotchy from crying for so long. Tim recognized him as the son of the fallen acrobats, having seen him before the show. “Gone! My parents are gone!” he lamented.  
Tim squeezed his eyes shut, but not before a tear ran down his cheek. “My parents also perished last night.”  
The other boy looked at him, confused. “What? How?”  
Tim shook his head, a lump having formed in his throat, inhibiting his ability to speak. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, breaking down in silent sobs. The other boy sat up and threw his arms around Tim, resting his head against his shoulder. Tim tensed, physical contact, especially from strangers, not really his cup of tea. (Speaking of which, he would have really enjoyed some at that moment.) Gradually, however, he relaxed, the ghost of his mother haunting the other boy’s embrace. “Tim Drake.” The words stumbled out softly, sorrow saturating every word.  
“Your name?” Tim nodded. The other boy gave a soft hum of acknowledgement before speaking again. “Dick Grayson.”

~~~

The dark knight roughly yanked the man’s arms behind his back. With a snap it broke, and the Bat harshly shoved him on the ground. “I never want to see you touch the lady again, or you will get much worse than a broken arm.” He promised in a low, gruff tone. “If I hear so much as a whisper…” The man whimpered and Batman couldn’t help but roll his eyes underneath the cowl. Pathetic. He spun, his cape briefly fanning out behind him as he vanished into the night, returning to the place that started it all, Crime Alley. It also happened to be where the Batmobile was parked, and true to name, another crime was underway.  
A young boy with flaming red hair was there, kneeling down beside a front tire and attempting to remove it. A hint of a smile crossed his face as he admired the boy’s courage. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, forcing his face to be void of expression once more. The boy shot to his feet and dropped his tools, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Batman smirked in amusement and fixed the tire before returning to the manor for the night.


	4. Picking up Strays

His shoulders were hunched, muscles taut, nails digging into arms, barely. Violent trembles made it hard to keep his arms in place. Lightning split the sky and pellets of rain came down in torrents. A roll of thunder soon followed the flash. The tattered remains of his clothing did nothing to protect him against the icy droplets that relentlessly bombarded him. Exhausted, and at the end of all hope, his legs gave way beneath him. He was too cold to stick his arms out to catch himself, and thus his face took the brunt of the collision, adding yet another injury to his ever-growing list. Freshly sealed wounds broke open and warm blood dripped down, intermingling with salty tears. He curled himself up into a ball on the sidewalk, whimpering his final release of resolve to live. He was trembling so badly he began to leave bloody gashes on his arms where he had a death grip on them. The water viciously ripped away any heat he had remaining.  
There was the clicking of high heels against pavement, and Tim was vaguely aware it stopped in front of him, but he had neither the strength nor resolve left to open his eyes. ‘Just kill me now.’ He mentally pleaded.  
“Why there appears to be a petite stray kitten on my doorstep.” Tim shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position to embrace death in, completely ignoring the feminine voice that had addressed him.  
The woman, for it had to be a lady, set a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. A flicker of curiosity gave Tim the strength to open his eyes a smidge. The hand was covered in leather, water beading on the smooth black surface and collecting until it rolled off. One oddity, he noticed, was her gloves appeared to end in claws. With an overwhelming sense of curiosity, he slowly sat up, his trembling letting up just a little bit. He blinked away a few droplets of water and allowed his eyes to fall upon the source of the hand. Never had he seen such a garment as what she wore. The leather hadn’t simply been a glove, it made up her entire suit. It was very slimming and seemed to draw attention to certain areas. That was as much as he could make out between the jerkiness of his movements and the rain that blurred his vision. “Who are you?” he asked through chattering teeth.  
The woman simply purred and gathered Tim up in her arms, giving his nose a boop with the soft tip. She studied him intently for a moment, a spark of recognition in her eyes. “That hardly matters right now, sugar. We can talk after I save you from hypothermia.” Flashes of ‘stranger danger’ and the plethora of news articles he had read snippets of when his parents had left the paper down came to mind. He was in no position to fight even if he really wanted to. Besides, his parents were dead. Things had changed. And with that in mind, he simply nodded his consent.  
The woman darted into what Tim assumed to be an apartment complex. He felt better the instant they stepped through the door, as a whoosh of warm air greeted him, evicting the cold one cell at a time. He began to feel guilty as she began the trek up two long flights of stairs. He couldn’t work up the courage to offer to work, and he was dubious that she would let him anyways. The feeling returned stronger than ever when he watched the droplets of water creating trails all over her lovely hardwood floor. He could almost hear his mom scolding him for being a poor house guest. But did he really have a choice? He couldn’t control water. He decided that he would offer to clean it up, just not at that moment.  
The sight of the fluffy baby blue towel was enough to draw a happy sigh from Tim, and a soft smile from the lady. She wrapped it around him and tousled his hair before turning on the tap for the bathtub. She held her hand under the water, searching for the right temperature and allowing the water to run after she had. She hurried out, leaving him to watch the rising water levels. Dread poked him. She returned with some fresh, dry clothes that she set on the edge of the sink. With a slight squeak from the knob, the water ceased collecting in the tub. Steamy wisps rose from the stilled waters, and he let out a moan of longing as he gazed upon it, thinking of how warm it must be.  
“Well strip and hop in, Kitten. That water is for you.” She encouraged. Tim looked at her with uncertainty. “Oh…” She chuckled. “Don’t worry; I won’t invade your privacy.” She retreated from the room and closed the door behind her.  
On a normal day, (which he didn’t have anymore) Tim would have been concerned about privacy, and even now he felt a little self-conscious knowing she could walk in any time she wanted. That wasn’t what bothered him though. It was the water. The draw of the warmth proved to be too strong. He carefully set the towel beside the clothes on the sink. Peeling off the clothes he currently wore, he let them drop to the ground with a splat. Casting a final glance at the door, he hugged himself and began inching closer and closer to the tub. He dipped a toe in, but the sight of the ripples so close to his body caused his heart to increase its pace. He jumped back, breathes coming in wheezing gasps. The sight of the towel gave him some comfort, and he snatched it up, wrapping it securely around his shoulders. He slumped down while he waited for his heart to calm down.  
Knocking on the door caused Tim to jump, gentle as it was. He was very skittish at the moment. “Are you okay in there, sugar? I didn’t hear you get in.”  
“I-I can’t!” Tim stammered, opening the door a crack. Fresh memories he tried so hard to suppress suddenly reared up and snapped at him with such ferocity that he screamed and stumbled back.  
She rushed in and caught him, adjusting the towel in a way that made him feel protected. She held him close and stroked his hair, calming, soothing. “That’s alright, Kitten.’ Her voice was gentle. “A little fear of water? No problem. We’ll find another way to warm you up.” She grabbed the clothing from the sink and pressed it against his chest until he took it.  
“Th- thank you.” His voice was meek, pathetic even, just as he was. He had survived the death of his parents. He came out alive even after- no. He couldn’t even think of that. He was far from unscathed. And was he really alive? No. He was treading the world of the living. Nothing more. He pulled on the clothes that were too big, but at least they were dry. Their bagginess gave him the impression he was swimming in his clothes. No matter how many times he tried to pull them up, they insisted on falling and tripping him. He looked for a way to fashion a makeshift belt, but felt uncomfortable touching anything. Instead he grasped handfuls of the fabric and held on tight, walking around awkwardly in his search for the woman.  
Tim froze when the tantalizing scent of hot chocolate entered his nose. He followed the scent to the edge of the kitchen where the woman worked making up a batch of the sweet drink. She smiled warmly at him as she brushed past, carrying the two mugs into her living room. She sat down and patted the space beside her. Tim cautiously approached and settled next to her, though not too close. She didn’t seem to like that though, and she pulled him closer so that his head rested on her arm. She pressed the mug into his hands. Hoping to avoid a repeat performance of the tub, he closed his eyes, ignoring the fact it was fluid and mostly water. Carefully he brought it up to his lips and took a small sip. The effect was instantaneous. As soon as it traveled through him the cold seemed to vanish. The woman smiled and wrapped an arm around him, seemingly satisfied. “I’m almost certain I already know the answer but I’ll ask anyways. Do you have a friend or relative you can call? Are you staying somewhere?”  
Tim gave his head a shake. “N-no. Not anymore.” He bit his lip as a lump began to form, hands shaking slightly, he set the mug down for fear he would spill all over the lovely cream couch.  
The woman studied him for a moment, deep in thought. Slowly she nodded. “I don’t normally do this, or I’d have a whole apartment of children by now… But something about you has sparked a burst of abnegation in me. I see real potential in you. Would you like to live under my care, kitten?”  
Tim tensed. Accepting help from someone was one thing. Living with them was another. But what choice did he really have? If he went to children services it would be no different. From what he could recall he had no close relatives, and no friends who could take him in. He would be sent to a group or foster home, neither option being all that appealing. He might be put up for adoption, and the chances of actually getting adopted were rare. Most people wanted babies or toddlers, elementary children at most. Where would he ever get another offer like this? If worse came to worst he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to escape. Nonetheless he decided it would be a better idea to get to know her first before agreeing to anything. “You seem nice enough, but I don’t know a thing about you. I would like to get to know you a little before I agree to anything permanent.”  
She grinned and ruffled his head. “That’s always wise. Of course darling, you are free to leave whenever you feel like it. I won’t ever hold you here against your will. Stay with me for a week maybe and if you like it, I’ll set up more permanent living arrangements. Care to share your name with me Kitten?”  
“Tim Drake.” He turned his gaze to the floor and fidgeted with his hands. “What should I call you?”  
She looked down at her rather odd attire and laughed lightly. “Well, when I’m like this I go by Catwoman. Now I’m going to trust you with my secret identity, Selina Kyle. That name doesn’t mean a whole lot though.”  
Tim nodded, and her outfit made much more sense. Without the blur of the rain he could see her little cat ears and goggles. He smiled slightly and began to examine the rest of the apartment. It was well furnished and modern. The décor hinted that this woman was far from poor. Marble counters, solid wood furniture, expensive looking vases, artifacts, and paintings all contributed. Given her costume, his first thought was that she must be a stripper, but even on a salary like that, she wouldn’t have had the funds to afford all the things she had here. It suddenly clicked in his mind. “Cat burglar…”  
Selina grinned, pleased he had come to the conclusion so quickly. “Yes Kitten, and quite a successful one at that.” She purred. “I would never force such a lifestyle on anyone, but if you wanted~” she trialed off, watching him closely. “I could train you in the art of thievery.”  
Tim shook his head. “I think it’s in my best interest to pass for now. I’ll take you up on your first offer though.”  
She nodded and pulled him into her lap. “That’s fine by me, kitten.”  
Tim curled up and drifted off to sleep. He had changed so much in such a short period of time. He was doing things he never would have even considered not long ago. What would his parents think of him now?

~~~

‘Water. There is so much of it. Torrents. The currents keep dragging me down. Air is just beyond my reach. If only I could swim faster! If only I was stronger! I’m so exhausted… My muscles are failing me. I didn’t want to die! I can’t live without the precious air! Oh how I’ve taken such a sweet and vital thing for granted! Air! I’m going onto my last few seconds. My lungs are begging, pleading, but I can’t provide. LET GO WATER!  
This is it. This is the end. Hello darkness.’

~~~

“Kitten! Tim! Wake up!”  
Tim sat up, gasping for air. He trembled and coughed violently, expelling water from his lungs that existed only as a figment of his imagination. Selina sat on the side of a bed, his temporary bed, he assumed. Her eyes sparked with fear for him, and she slipped a hand over his. Tim tensed at the touch and drew his hand back, drawing it close to his chest. Selina looked slightly confused and hurt, but she didn’t verbally voice anything other than her main concern. “Are you alright?”  
He shook his head. “B-but I’m sure I will be. Just give me a minute.”  
She nodded and reached towards him, but considering his last reaction, she seemed to think better of it. Instead she drew back. Tim furrowed his brow and stared at his hands, studying the creases before he sank back down on the bed and pulled the cover back over himself. Selina placed her hand on his back and rubbed, the effect kind of lost with the thick blanket between. “Thank you…” he whispered anyways, the touch reminding him of his deceased mother. Once more he drifted off into sleep.

~~~

He had it! He had the tire! Already his mind began to buzz with the possibility of ways to use the money he would soon earn. First off, his mother would be able to recover, and maybe they could use it to find somewhere decent to stay. It would hardly do to buy her medicine only to have her lapse back into sickness without proper accommodation. He was so close to the meeting spot! Already he was visualizing the thick wad of bills in his hand. Nearly there… And…  
“That actually belongs to me.”  
No! No no no! He increased his speed when something swooshed by on his left side. There before the young thief stood the Bat himself. “You are talented. I’ll give you that. I assumed it was just tomfoolery at first, but you made me curious and I looked into your record. You have quite the resume. I’m assuming that’s for your mother, Jason?”  
Jason froze, staring at him with wide eyes. The Bat continued. “That kid who promised you all that money? I looked into him too. He can’t bring you the money. It was a cruel trick.”  
Jason clenched his hands into fists and spoke in a low voice that almost sounded like a growl. “How do you know?” He wanted to scream, and tears stung his eyes. He had to be lying! He just wanted the tire back without a fight! Of course, he knew the man was right. He had a sneaking suspicion, but he liked having that hope. Once more he was hopeless, and this could only get worse from here.  
“Because I’m Batman.”  
Jason huffed. His simple response was infuriating. “Fine. Take me in. Beat me up. Do whatever it is you do to criminals.”  
Batman slowly shook his head. “I’m prepared to offer you a job. How would you like to work with me? In exchange, I’ll use my connections to get you mother admitted to the hospital. I’ll cover her medical bills.”  
Jason didn’t even blink. “Yes.” He didn’t have to think about it. This was exactly what he wanted.  
“You don’t even know what the job is.”  
“With all due respect sir, I don’t care what it is. If it saves my mom… I’ll do anything. If you researched me as much as I think you did, you should know that.”


	5. Hopelessly Me?

Tim laughed at the antics of the acrobatic boy. Dick dangled upside down from a low swinging practice trapeze, opening his mouth wide for an incoming muffin. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth, cheeks filling like those of a squirrel. Tim lost it when he began making chittering noises. He collapsed on the ground in a fit of laughter. The acrobat grinned at him, cheeks still full of muffin which only made Tim laugh harder. He swallowed and gracefully kicked his legs free from the bar and dropped down on Tim.  
“Haha- DICK! Heehee- OFF! Ha- Can’t! Ho- BREATH!”  
“No. I’m afraid I can’t get off.” He smiled down at the struggling boy, flicking a strand of hair away from his eyes. “This is just another step in the ‘Get Tim over his aversion to touching’ program.”  
“Diiiiiiick!” he whined, pushing against the older boy. “Get off you elephant!”  
Dick chucked. “Okay, okay!” He set his palms firmly against the grass below and pushed off. Tim scrambled out from beneath him the moment the weight had lifted. Dick feigned a hurt look, the bottom of his lip coming out in a pout. Tim rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Fine. You can give me one hug.”  
“Yay!” Dick tackled the younger back down and squeezed him tightly. “You never set any conditions to this hug so because you only let me have one it has to be forever!”  
Tim smirked. “You can’t hold onto me forever. It’s not possible. But I suppose it doesn’t have to be a short one being that I excluded a time limit.”  
“Excluded? Does that mean you forgot to add one or left it out intentionally?”  
“Left it out.”  
Dick grinned at that. Of course he had. He had known Tim long enough to know he was very analytical. He had a way of precluding things that did not fit with what he meant to say, his words often precise and conveying his exact thoughts. Of common expressions, Tim seemed to have taken to heart ‘think before you speak’. “Obviously you wanted me to hug you forever!”  
Tim laughed and shook his head. Dick made a point to make the duration of the hug extra-long before he finally released him. Tim brushed himself off, flicking grass onto the acrobat unintentionally.  
“Hey!” Dick protested. He pulled a handful of the greenery up and launched it at Tim’s chest.  
“Ack!” Tim held up his arm to break the projectile, grass confetti exploding upon impact. He scooted back and raised himself to one knee, determination and a mischievous smile forming as he pulled up two handfuls of his own. He drew his arms back then swung them forward, the piles aimed at different areas of the other’s body. Dick was unable to dodge them both, and thus the green flecks decorated his clothes. Tim smirked and swiped the grass from his palms. “Surrender. You already know this isn’t a battle you can win.”  
“Don’t be so sure.” Dick stated with a sly smile. His comment earned him a curious look from the would-be victor. Dick dropped to his knees and rapidly pulled up fistfuls, gathering it all into one pile. Tim, caught off guard and quickly realizing he wasn’t going to have time to prepare a counter attack, yelped and jumped back, deciding this would be a good opportunity to absquatulate.  
Dick gave chase. He was the faster and larger of the two, though Tim used his size and intelligence to his advantage using impressive dodges and fakes. Dick caught onto his pattern, and during a fake he dived towards him and dropped the grass pile down his shirt! Tim abruptly stopped and began to wiggle in his discomfort, attempting to dislodge the pieces that clung to him. “AaaaaAAAAH!” he screamed.  
Dick doubled over in laughter at the sight of the wiggling boy. Tim was far from free of the grass, but he stopped and began to gather once again with a few mumbled words. “Bigger fish to fry…”  
“Timmy! Stop! Truce! I’ll help you get the grass out only on the condition you stop now.”  
Tim ceased his collecting with a pause to consider the offer. As much as he loved to win, the grass was undoubtedly itchy and irritating. He finally nodded. “Alright. We are done. No more grass war, but I will have revenge worthy of victory later.” He sat down beside Dick and began to swipe blindly in attempts to free himself of the irksome plant.  
“Ack! Stop it Timmy! You’re getting it all over me!” Dick grabbed Tim’s wild hand and set it in his lap. Tim clasped his hands together, shifting uncomfortably with the desire to free himself from the maddening plant. Dick lifted the back of his shirt where a few blades swirled to the ground. Dick chuckled lightly as his azure eyes began to assess the aftermath of his attack. “I really did a number on you.” That comment earned his shoulder a punch. “Okay! I won’t rub it in!” He worked in silence for a few minutes, plucking from areas where green was most prominent.  
It had occurred to Dick before, but he had gotten distracted before he really had the chance to dwell on it. Tim was quite small. He didn’t know how old he was, but if he had to guess it fell somewhere close to his age, and Tim was on the smaller side of things. His intelligence and maturity at times made Dick wonder if he might even be older, but that seemed far-fetched. It was more likely the death of his parents had caused him to grow up. Dick himself had grown more somber, but for the most part he still remained carefree and happy, especially with his newfound friend. The best way to know for sure was to ask. “How old are you, Tim?”  
The boy was quiet a moment, likely processing the entire question and dissecting Dick’s thoughts somehow. “10…” His words were slow and careful, hinting at suspicion. “How old are you?”  
“13.” He responded quick and upbeat so as to cast off the wariness. He had been close in his guess, but he thought that Tim might have been even younger than that.  
Tim nodded as Dick lowered his shirt, covering the pale white skin once more. Tim leaned against him with a sigh. “I-I’m still devastated by their deaths… But I’m glad I met you. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t found you.”  
Dick smiled “I-”  
-  
Crack! His tenaciousness in regards to the pleasant memory faltered as a particularly smarting blow struck his face. He refused to acknowledge it though. That was exactly what they wanted. Or… maybe it was? He wasn’t certain as to the veracious intent behind their actions, but his complacency was impermissible. Or was that the route he should go? Maybe he should make a fuss? Whine? Complain? Beg? Growl? Snap? In all honesty he doubted it would make much of a difference. Alas, his hope was beginning to dwindle. He who had always believed himself to be an agathist was faltering! Where was the good in this? It had been a week since the mask men chained him up to the cold stone wall, and when he came it hadn’t been streaked with dry blood like it now was. And oh! He ached so badly! His wrists stung from the metal cuffs that held his hands over his head. They were raw and swollen from his thrashing. And he needed to move. He needed to walk again. The inactivity in itself was driving him mad. The pain was a good distraction though. Daily beatings were beginning to take their toll. But he needed to stay strong. He didn’t know what he was fighting; He just knew he had to fight it. And yet… he was barely a teen. He was dubious that even fully grown men could sustain treatment like this. He couldn’t deny it. He was miserable. Salvation was a forlorn endeavor. His stench was atrocious. Hunger gnawed at him. But he had to keep going right? An intuition in his gut told him he couldn’t ever give in. It would be better to die. At this point, death would have been a blessing.  
One day the beatings stopped. One day the lights went out. It appeared to be a blessing, an answer to prayer. His throbbing limbs pestered him, but hid numerous injuries began to heal. He was still starving, but that was okay. Help was on the way. That must be the reason he never saw them anymore. What else could it be?  
Without the lights and visits it became impossible to gauge the number of day that had passed. What was the point of this? Did they just want to kill him? Why go through all the trouble of keeping him alive this long? And then he was reminded it couldn’t be that much trouble on their part. He hadn’t had a bite of food in what seemed like weeks. He wondered how he hadn’t died of dehydration yet, but he guessed they must have been giving him something when he slept or the like.  
Once more the idea of rescue faded into obscurity. This was only another torture tactic. His sole companions were his memories, and with time they too began to fade. He began to wonder if they were real at all, or just implanted given to him to instill false hope. He was probably dead. This was hell. He tried to sing to improve his mood, but it only turned into bitter weeping that continued for hours upon hours. Or he thought it did.He still couldn’t tell time.  
Pure hopelessness consumed him. He wanted nothing more than to die. But he couldn’t make himself die on command. He couldn’t see himself, but he knew he must be a weak, pale sack of skin and bones. And dirty. He couldn’t use a bathroom. “Please kill me!” he screamed to the darkness. His words just echoed around and returned as though to taunt him. His bottom lip quivered. Never had he ever felt so alone. So lonely. So lost. His physical pains paled in comparison to his mental and emotional pain.  
And one day it stopped. He realized he didn’t have to care. He didn’t have to let his emotions torment him. He simply stopped caring. Time didn’t matter. As far as he knew he would be here forever. He had already been here for what felt like an eternity. He stared into the void of darkness, apathy consuming him. It was his final defense against the torment. He embraced it until it became who he was. He was the very definition of apathetic. Dick Grayson was apathetic. His emotions had vacated. His feelings of abandonment and confusion were gone. Memories of his parents and Tim had once sparked feelings of sorrow and joy. Now there was nothing. It didn’t matter. Nothing did.  
And then he understood. He had quit fighting. The darkness stripped him of all he was. The darkness broke him. And he didn’t care.


	6. A Question of You

What happened to you? Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you. You were –are my best friend. My mentor has inquired about your whereabouts to her contacts, but nothing has turned up. I don’t even know where to begin my search, but I  
Swear  
I’ll  
Find  
You.  
I won’t stop for as long as the stars hang in the heavens.( You always liked that simile)  
I  
Hope  
It’s  
Not  
Too  
Late.


	7. The Tail of Robins

It was the self-defense class. That had to be it. How else had she managed to stop the serial killer? Okay, maybe it helped that she was smart and a whiz with computers. She had hacked into the electronic lock and trapped him in the compound. But it hadn’t held him long. He broke through the door. It did stall him long enough to read the file about him she had hacked into, and then her eidetic memory worked to keep those details safe. A traumatic experience as a child had given him a paralyzing fear of bright lights and sudden flashes. Her hacking skills once again proved useful when she played with the lights. He had dropped his gun and she had recalled the place he had already been injured that day. That was all it had taken to bring him down.  
“Good work… Batgirl.” Barbara glanced up from her tying job. Her face flushed red when she placed the voice to be Batman’s, and here she was wearing something that looked a lot like one of his cowls, to preserve her identity. But the criminal was unconscious. She didn’t need it now. She tore it off and dropped it on the floor. “Um… thanks!”  
Batman picked the makeshift cowl up and slipped it back onto her head. Barbara thought she saw a hint of a smile before he turned and vanished. “Batgirl huh… I kind of like the sound of that.”

~~~

It hadn’t taken time to decide he wanted to lead the life of a thief. It was his way of repaying the debt of kindness he owed her, though many times she had assured him she only needed his company. He had to be absolutely certain this was what he wanted, because once he started, it was near impossible to escape this life. But her excitement at his proposal… she wanted this, and though it took a little getting used to, he enjoyed it as well.  
“Wait up Mama Cat!” Tim trotted after Selina.  
“Kitten, you look fabulous, but we can’t constantly admire our reflections on the job.”  
“I’m sorry Mama. It’s just so strange.” He inspected the coiled whip in his hands, mentally running through simulations based off of demonstrations from Selina.  
She shook her head and chuckled. “Best way to learn is on the job. I’ve already successfully pilfered a few goodies tonight’s demonstration. The next house is yours to hit. I’ll stay on the block if you run into trouble, but otherwise you are on your own, Kitten.”  
Tim lowered his goggles. “Alright. And when we are around others can you use a name that’s a little less innocent sounding? Only you are allowed to use that name.”  
“Noted sugar.” She winked and Tim groaned. “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something good.” She promised.  
Tim nodded and silently padded off towards his destination. She appeared behind him. “How does Stray sound?”  
“Stray…” he tested the name and nodded. “Yeah.” With a smile he dashed off.  
Some of the other houses they hit had been large, and Selina always assured him the residents were well off. She didn’t believe in taking from those who had nothing. In that way she was a bit of a Robin Hood, except most of the crimes served to make her richer. On occasion she did make a point to donate. But now thoughts have digressed. The residents were always well off and could use a little less, but this manor… nay, castle, was larger than he had ever seen! How could anyone need such a big home? “Find something… Get out.” He muttered the reminder to himself seeing as his thoughts were running rampant. But what to take? There was so much! And then he saw it…  
There, carefully tucked behind thick bullet proof glass, illuminated by a beam of moonlight, sat the largest glittering diamond he had ever laid eyes upon. It scintillated like the stars he loved, and it was just about as big as a baseball! The most striking thing about it was its stunning blue tint. He grinned. It was the perfect thing to pick. It would have been much simpler to take a handful of jewelry and leave, but he never could resist a challenge. It made life more exciting.  
He could tell he was gonna have to get close. None of his tools worked from such a distance. The lasers looked to be a very complex and not stagnant pattern, but he was certain he could do it. Dick- no. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by those thoughts. Focus was key. Tim stood deathly still as he watched for the pattern to become apparent. At first it seemed random as though the lasers moved where they pleased, but he began to see repetition, and eventually he had a pretty good idea of the pattern. Careful he picked his way through until he was standing directly in front of the glass encasement. With the claws on his gloves he created a hole in the spotless glass. He spotted a stray laser about to catch him, so he quickly sidestepped before reaching in and removing the precious jewel.  
The moment it was lifted from its stand, a blaring alarm rang out with such intensity Tim nearly dropped the diamond. Geez. The alarm itself was capable of protecting the jewel. He raised his whip and sent it slicing through the air towards a protruding ridge near the skylight. It coiled around and provided ample support that he used to launch himself through. He balanced his stealth and speed with an emphasis on speed as he made his escape. Albeit, a clean break was not to be had tonight.  
The fence-line was in sight, and Tim broke stealth to make a sprint for it. His heart hammered in his chest with the terror he would be caught and get Selina caught in the process. The jewel, not stashed in a pouch at his side, felt more like an anvil. More than anything he wanted to drop the worthless thing, for that’s all it would be if he were to be caught. But this was his test, and the gem was sure to be his passing score. He had to hold onto it. He had to risk it. He paused briefly to listen for the hum of an electric current. Finding none, he jumped up and latched onto the chain links that were making way too much noise. Carefully he navigated past the barbs guarding the top using the thick, angled, support to provide him with enough lift for his escape. He landed gracefully on the other side, though he got a nasty jolt that went straight to his knees. For the distance it had seemed adequate.  
As Tim was checking himself over, he failed to notice the boy before him, glaring through a domino mask, arms crossed, and toe tapping impatiently. It wasn’t until the stranger cleared his throat that he earned the burglar’s attention. ‘Crap!’ he thought. He would have to charm his way out of this. “Hello~” he purred, creeping closer to the boy and playing with the knee length, yellow and black, cape he wore.  
“Ahg! Don’t touch me freaky catboy!” he exclaimed, jerking away.  
Tim pouted and stepped back, secretly thrilled he was almost far enough to make a proper break away. The colorful costumed boy seemed to realize his plan, and he rushed forwards and held him up using his leather suit. Tim became painfully aware that the leather was too tight in certain areas, but he ignored it and turned up his charm. “Oh I see~ You just wanted to hold me~” Despite his terror, he was quickly discovering how fun this part of the job was. He eyes wandered down to the large ‘R’ the other wore. Something clicked in his mind at that moment. Selina warned him of a partner the dark knight had recently acquired. It had only been speculation and rumors for months at that point, but it seemed to be a reasonable explanation now. How else could he explain the uniform? And his location at this particular time of the night?  
Disgust crossed the face of the other boy, but he didn’t drop him. He studied him, looking as though he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His eyes darted down to his utility belt, and Tim wanted to guess there was some sort of communication method in the pocket he was looking at. The boy gave his head a slight shake, an indication of some internal struggle, and then he fixed Tim with a steely glare. “You stole a valuable diamond. Hand it over now!”  
The Batchild must have been too focused on his face to notice the fluid slip the young thief had performed. He was free and casually strutting in front of the boy, hands folded behind his back. “I’m not sure what you are talking about. The only diamond I see here is you~”  
The combination of his smooth escape and the strange comment caused the new vigilante to stagger back in surprise. He recovered quickly and fixed him with an even harder glare. “Now listen here! You can’t fool me with your ridiculous games! Hand it over before I resort to less than peaceable tactics!”  
It was clear to Tim that the other boy had no idea what he was doing. This gave him a boost of confidence and with the same fluid redirection, he removed the diamond and held it between two claws. “Oh! You must have meant this diamond!” He laughed and gracefully scaled a tree. “You’ll have to catch me first Rainbow Bat!”  
“That’s /Robin/ to you!” he growled and leapt, catching the branch Tim now stood on.  
A flash of recognition crossed his face, followed by a flicker of fear---  
“Raymond, please stop tormenting Tim! He needs to learn so he can join our act and you are /not/ helping!” If he wasn’t so terrified, holding onto the high practise trapeze bar, Tim might have laughed at the stern look Dick was giving his senior acrobat. It just seemed so foreign on the normally happy features Dick had, though that could be because Tim was near.  
“Relax little Robin! He has to learn to swing on the high trapeze if he has any hope of joining us.” Raymond defended.  
Dick tensed and clenched his hands into fists. “Do not call me that. Only my mother can call me that.” His tone was low and frightening.  
“And Tim.” Raya, another acrobat around Raymond’s age chimed in. Tim cocked his head as Dick’s face reddened, not from anger, but embarrassment. Tim wondered why that would make him so flustered. It was no secret they had become very close friends in the short span since they met, though to them it felt like a lifetime. The only indication it wasn’t was the fresh grief inflicted with every thought of their parents.  
“I’ll stop if it bothers you! Just get me down!” Tim whined, dangling high above their heads from the swinging bar.  
Dick rushed over to the wall, hand slamming down against the large red button labeled ‘down’. Gradually the trapeze began its descent, and Tim dropped to the ground on his knees. “I wasn’t ready for that. Please don’t make me do it again!” He picked himself up and clung tightly to Dick, the only safety to be found in this crazy circus crew.  
Dick’s face turned a darker shade of crimson, and he quickly excused himself, taking Tim along with him. He sighed and sat down in an isolated location, turning his attention to Tim. Tim gazed up at him, trying to gauge his thoughts from the mask that was beginning to crumble. A smile broke out on Dick’s face, and he ran a hand through Tim’s smooth brown locks. “What’s wrong?” Tim asked with a very childlike demeanor.  
Dick shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just- I’ve grown up with them, but I’ve never felt that bond was as strong as the one I have with you. It doesn’t make sense so me, and I feel guilty and ashamed… but I can’t help it. You are special. I don’t want to play favourites, but you are my favourite.” He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt them. I didn’t want them to notice. But now they have. I’m not sure what to do.”  
Tim nodded, a solemn mood overtaking his innocence. “They may have been close to your parents, and they would have been saddened by their deaths, but it’s nothing compared to actually losing them…” he paused, staring off into space for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. “They will never know our pain, and our friendship was forged from that naked grief. It’s a foundation that isn’t easily shattered. It might be difficult for them to accept… but you can’t change the past… and personally, I wouldn’t… want… to…” Granted, he would have given anything to reverse the clock and bring back his parents. It would be a blessing to stop seeing their faced haunting his nightmares. But he had grown stronger and he never wanted to lose the friendship he had with Dick.  
Dick smiled softly and wrapped an arm around the tiny boy, knowing his meaning. “Raya was right. You are the only one who can call me by that name now. When they say it, it feels degrading and insulting to the way mom used it, when you say it… I feel happy.”  
Now Tim smiled and leaned against the acrobat. “Robin, Robin, where have you hidden your wings?”  
“I haven’t, I haven’t. I traded them so I could fly.”  
“Robin, Robin, did you touch the sky?”  
“Oh yes, yes. Up I flew so high.”  
“Robin, Robin to what heights did you try?”  
“The stars, the stars. I touched them but then came back because I missed you so.”---  
‘And I miss you.’  
Tim’s face had become void of emotion for the duration of a second as he collected himself. The pause was all his adversary needed to latch onto Tim’s foot. Tim wanted to growl and demand to know where the name came from, but he couldn’t betray his persona. He forced a smiled and shook himself free. “Ah ah ah. This kitty had to run, but I’ll catch you later birdboy!” He laughed and scampered off through the trees, balancing precariously on branches as he searched for his centre of balance. ‘Robin’ began to chase after him, but Tim was much too nimble.  
Tim felt like a total fraud and failure upon returning to Selina. For her sake he tried to smile, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Selina crossed a rooftop the get to him and grabbed his face, forcing him to look up at her. Tim flinched, half expecting her to be angry, but there was only concern in her eyes. “What happened, kitten?” He launched into a brief account of the events that occurred. When he pulled out the diamond Selina was elated. “That doesn’t sound bad at all! You did everything perfectly.” She paused and studied him. “But you are still upset. Why?”  
Tim sighed. “I don’t know… I guess I miss him… That was his name… Robin… It almost feels like a slap that someone, especially someone on the opposing side of the law, would use it. I’m probably just being overdramatic. It not like I own the name…”  
Selina hugged him. “I’m still searching for him.”  
He nodded but mentally questioned what good it would do. At this point he had to accept that Dick was likely dead. And even if they did find him alive and well, what could they do? Would Selina adopt them? Would they return to the circus? What would he think of Tim’s decision to become a thief? He had so many questions and way too few answers….

~~~

His cape dramatically splayed out behind him as he walked with large quick strides. Barbara had to speed up to the awkward half jog, half walk to keep up. This was all quite dramatic. Batman was quite dramatic. If she hadn’t seen firsthand what he was capable of, she might have thought it all to be part of a movie or performance. Even so she often caught herself glancing around, half expecting to find the lenses of a camera peeking out from somewhere.  
Above all, Barbara was excited. She was being led into the lair of the Bat where her first training session was about to commence. Sure, she had short sparring matches on occasion with Batman, but she hardly considered those to be sessions. It had been hard to catch his attention again, but worth it. She had demonstrated her skills in a plethora of ways to the point where Batman approached her with the offer to properly train her. She had gladly accepted.  
A ginormous stone cavern proved to be the Batcave. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was a little shocking to see such a…cave. She ran a hand through her hair, eyes drinking in the large stalagmites and tranquil bats. The technology was impressive, but what caught her eye most was the glittering waterfall. Normally she would have gone straight for the computer, but the water had an alluring quality about it. She jerked her eyes away before her feet could wander closer and tuned her attention to Batman, whose silent evaluation unnerved her. She nervously cleared her throat. Batman simply turned and gestured for her to follow.  
In a more isolated part of the cave there was a doorway that opened into another large room. The center was rather bare, but the edges were lined with allsorts of devices and equipment that Barbara assumed was to be used for training purposes. So intent was her study of the room that she didn’t notice the boy until he was on his feet, moving towards her. His hair matched her own fiery pigment, but that seemed to be where comparisons stopped. Where she was lean with adequately toned muscles, he was husky with large muscles that were still dwarfed when held against Batman’s. He looked to be about her age, granted he still towered over her. “Who is she?” he hadn’t even tried to hide his disgust, and that rubbed her the wrong way.  
“I’m right here! Why don’t you ask me directly!” She huffed.  
The boy raised an eyebrow and Barbara noticed the sea green of his iris. “What are /you/ doing here?” He amended sarcastically.  
Barbara crossed her arms across her chest, too furious to answer. She looked to Batman who finally spoke. “This is Batgirl. I will be training her alongside you.”  
“Batgirl/!” He asked incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Where is your individuality?”  
“Same place you left your manners!” she snapped. “What did /you/ pick?”  
He smirked at her, probably pleased he had managed to get under her skin so quickly. She resolved to not let him have that satisfaction again. “I haven’t picked yet. I can guarantee it will be better than /that/ though!”  
“That’s enough you two. How about you start by settling your differences through sparring.” Batman suggested.  
“Yes. Let's do that.”Barbara’s voice lapsed into a hiss and she lowered herself into a fighting stance. The boy rolled his eyes, smirk near faltering as he mirrored her stance. They circled each other, sizing up their opponent before Barbara launched herself towards him with a shrill battle cry. He was too quick, and easily sidestepped, catching her arm in a pin that served to keep her from hitting the floor. This only aggravated her more, and she freed herself from his hold, reversing it so she was the one holding him.  
“Seriously Batman? I’ll admit she does have determination, but her form is so sloppy. This isn’t a fight she can win.” He commented, easily slipping from her hold. Batman remained silent. It occurred to Barbara that she was letting her emotions fight for her. She wasn’t utilizing her moist useful asset, her mind! Batman never once said they couldn’t use equipment, and though it might be a mistake being that she lacked knowledge of her opponent, the bostaff to her left was looking very tempting. She couldn’t just grab it though. That would take away her advantage and he would grab one too. She needed him to charge at her, but she wasn’t sure what she could use to entice him to do that, then it struck her.  
“I’m kind of new to this whole hero business, Batboy. What’s your excuse?” she immediately noticed his finger twitch through his calm demeanor, the indication she struck a nerve. With a smirk of her own she egged him on. “But please /Batboy/ don’t hold back for my sake.”  
“If you insist.” He replied with a clearly forced smile. He charged towards her, but she was too quick. She placed her hand on the middle of his back and used him to propel herself away, throwing him off balance in the process with her lightning fast reflexes. She snatched up the bostaff and used it to pin his arms behind his arms behind his back in a far more effective manner. He struggled until she added pressure with the unspoken threat she would break his arms.  
“Surrender?” she asked sweetly.  
“Only because Batman didn’t teach me any non-lethal moves to get out of this one.” He snarled, but Barbara suspected he was only trying to play off his defeat. He probably hadn’t taught him any lethal moves either. She let him up and they shook hands. “That wasn’t half bad, but I won’t go easy next time.”  
“Yeah sure.” Barbara rolled her eyes. “I better head home before my dad starts to suspect anything. Thank you for this opportunity Batman.”  
He simply nodded. “Jason, show her out please. I have urgent business I must attend to.”  
His face reddened. “I thought my secret identity was supposed to be a secret!” But he was already gone. Jason turned to Barbara. “Whatever. Follow me.” He grumbled. Barbara couldn’t help but giggle, which earned her a glare from Jason.  
“It’s nothing to get flustered over. I’m not going to tell anyone. And it definitely suits you.” Jason simply grunted as he led her back outside. She silently stood, observing the trees for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.  
A sudden flurry and gust of wind had the two preteens yelping and diving for cover. Barbara looked over at Jason to see a small bird perched atop his head. She burst out laughing at the sight. “What?!” he demanded.  
“Birdboy! Your name should be Birdboy!” she pointed a shaky finger at his head, a large grin breaking through her attempts of suppression.  
He looked up, going cross-eyed. “Oh har-de-har-har.” His voice dripped with tangible sarcasm. “Why don’t I just call myself ‘Robin’?”  
She stopped laughing and looked at him with a serious expression. “That’s actually not a bad idea. I kind of like it, and forever I’ll remember that robin.” She chuckled as the little red- breasted bird took off again.  
Jason scoffed. “That’s a ridiculous name! I’ll never garner any respect with a name like ‘Robin’!”  
Barbara shrugged. “It’s unique though. It’s better than ‘Batboy’.” She paused for a moment. “My name is Barbara by the way. It’s only fair that you know mine since I know yours.” She added softly.  
Jason looked a little surprised by her confession, and eventually he offered her a soft smile while helping her to her feet. “You know ‘Robin’ is kind of growing on me. I’ll consider it. But not because you suggested it or anything absurd like that!”  
She rolled her eyes. “Good bye Jason.”


	8. Mission Tim

Small dark shades lenses concealed his ever alert amber eyes. Other than the dripping, the sloshing water around his ankles as he plodded through the sewers was the only source of noise. His mask served to conceal the putrid oder that attempted to waft through, not that it bothered him. There were worse scents like death or endless days without proper hygiene. Yet, even those had little impact now. He couldn't allow them to. 

Dick was a soldier, and one of the best. His battles were for neither right nor wrong. He only followed orders. Years of intense training had finally prepared him for his first real mission. In previous missions he had been accompanied by his great grandfather, William Cobb. Dozens of throats had been sliced under the watchful eye of his predeceasing Talon. Never once did he flinch. Never once had he batted an eye. They were nothing. He was nothing. Besides that, many times prior he had killed his grandfather in their sparring matches. Dick was much too skilled to suffer the same fate. His potential was grand. The Court had state as much. It wasn't supposed to mean anything though. It wasn't a compliment. It was just an observation. 'Just do as you are told.'

So Dick found himself navigating through the sewers towards the slums of Gotham where his next target lived. He didn't get to know anything about her beyond physical appearance. Tall, dirty, stringy, greasy, blond hair, pale ghostly white skin, an eye with a white glaze, (her blind eye) and she walked hunched over with a limp in her step. It occurred to him that this made her disabled, and the fight would be far from fair. She could be a civilian, but he wasn't allowed to care. She was sentenced to die and he would kill her. 

Dick slid the sewer grate to the side with ease. Soon he had a visual on his target. She was laying on a bench, a child curled close to her chest, both wearing apparel that would have garnered sympathy from someone with a heart. He removed a sleek dart gun, small and styled to resemble a sniper. He peered through the scope and aimed for her neck. It was a very small patch, and the odds of accidentally striking the child were high. 

A soft voice so quiet he barely heard it wondered if he should kill her at all. Based on their features, that woman was the child's mother, and so he would wake up presumably an orphan. He could kill the child too and save him from that fate, but he figured the child should get to decide whether he wanted to live or not. Horrified at his thoughts, he squashed the internal anomalies. He did, however, move to get a better angle so the child wouldn't be at risk. 

At that moment the woman's eyes flew open and she saw him. The evergreen iris of her clear eye was easy to see as her pupil narrowed to a fearful pinprick. "Melina Ambrose, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die." He stated in a cold, detached voice. 

"Please!" It was her only word, for her eyes spoke volumes. It gave a voice to her inner turmoil that made him pause. Then he pulled the trigger and the dart struck her in the forehead. The child remained peacefully sleeping even as he checked her pulse to be sure she was dead. When he returned to the sewers terrible wails echoed around his sloshing feet and up into deaf ears. 

A moment later his grandfather stood before him, his mask hiding his face that would have been impossible to read anyways. Dick stopped and the two faced each other in silence. He had thought this mission was supposed to be just him, but apparently he had been watched. "You could have made the first shot. Why did you move?"

Dick shrugged. "The boy wasn't worth wasting a shot on. I wanted to be sure in my aim." His voice was flat and he brushed past the older man. His grandfather followed in silence as they returned to the court and reported. It was as trite as usual. Dick was finished while William lingered a bit longer. 

"He may be ready but I find myself a bit dubious. There is one final test I would like to attempt..." He carefully explained his plan to the Owls of which states down at him in a sea of white masks. 

"Do as you have suggested." Said the lead one, who even in that short statement commanded great authority and leadership.   
~~~  
A perfectly timed handspring had Tim gracefully landing on another rooftop, a playful laugh ringing through the air as he dodged a bird-a-rang. "Birds and Bats and Cats and Rats!" He sang to the rhythmic style of a nursery rhyme. He broke into a lope, confidence oozing from him. "Turds and mats and gnats and- DRATS! Watch it! You might actually hit me!" His laugh returned as he narrowly avoided another Bat themed projectile. 

"That's the idea!" Robin snapped, his frustration obvious. 

"He can't evade is forever." Batgirl stated to diffuse him, though her tone suggested she was a little dubious. 

"See that's where you are wrong Girlbat. I've /been/ evading you forever! I /will/ evade you forever!" Tim smaller at them innocently. He talked a big game but he was a little uncertain. Robin wasn't much of a challenge, but with Batgirl whose intelligence mirrored his own... It became a little difficult, and even more so due to the determination he instilled from the item he stole. 

Tim reached into a golden yellow pocket and dig around, seeing what he could scavenge from the stolen utility belt. Robin looked like he was about to blow his top in his seething fury. "Stray, you damn well better give that back right this second!"

"Or what?" Tim sung his taunting reply. 

A cruel smile formed on his face which only made Tim laugh again. Snap! The whirl of a zipping cord began as he was lifted upwards, being ensnared in some sort of net! They had set a trap! They actually caught him! Robin smirked and skidded to a stop.

"Oh please. This won't hold me long." Tim said, brushing aside the strands of panic that arose. 

Batgirl stepped forward. "On the contrary, those cord are constructed of an element too strong for even you to slice through. You aren't leaving until we say, and this time it's prison for you, kitty."

Tim couldn't ignore the pounding in his chest, but he kept up his cool facade. "What element? Personally I think it's gotta be a compound of some sort as no known element is strong enough to hold me forever."

Batgirl rolled her eyes. "I will say nothing more. You have a knack for escaping everything, so the less I tell you the better our chances of holding you will be."

Dispute his fear, Tim couldn't help feeling a little prideful. Fear was irrational anyways. If he was sent to prison Selina would save him. She would also probably harshly scold him for getting mixed up with the Bats again, but they were too much fun to leave alone, and she knew that just as well as he did. 

An explosion rocked the entire city block. Tim cling tightly to the net as the other two stumbled, searching for balance. Robin cursed and shot an alarmed glance at Batgirl, of which she returned the look. "Joker." They said simultaneously. 

"You guys didn't catch that nutbar yet?" Tim asked in dismay. Batgirl only shook her head in response. 

Robin examined him for a moment. "We might stand a better chance with help." The statement was directed towards Batgirl, but Tim knew it was also a proposal. 

"You want me to help you capture that madman?!" He didn't bother trying to keep the terror from his voice. 

Batgirl solemnly nodded. "Please Stray? We will let you go if you help us."

Tim sighed and go of the cords he had been clutching with a death grip. "If things go south I can't promise I won't absquatulate."

Robing nodded. "All we ask is that you try to help us. Let him go."  
~~~  
With shoulders drawn back, hands clasped tightly behind his back, Dick stared ahead with pulsing Amber eyes. Looking down upon him was the unnerving sea of faceless owls, very daunting to those who still felt emotion. "Your next task is to eliminate Tim Drake." A single voice spoke with an indeterminable source and a slight hiss. "You get no stats on this mission. It will be your job to figure out who he is and eliminate him, bringing his head to us."

They spoke as if Dick didn't already know who he was. But he did. This was clearly a test. He must have done something wrong and he suspected it had to do with his previous mission. No matter. This would be an excellent way to prove himself. He mentally began running through what he knew.   
Tim Drake,  
Orphan,  
2 years younger,  
Former friend,  
Small,  
Dark hair,  
Blue eyes.   
Though it was quite possible any number of those things could have changed. Former friend... His mind was stuck on that one. The Owls wanted to see where his loyalties lay. They would probably just love another excuse to put him through hell again. That's where they would be sorely disappointed, or possibly thrilled that he had no contending loyalties. The name meant nothing to him now. Tom hadn't come to his aid in his time of need. He wasn't particularly fond of the Court of Owls, but after all their work turning him into a monster... He had no place else to go even if he wanted to. "Very well. It shall be done as you have instructed." He half bowed and swiftly left to prepare.   
~~~  
A few years ago...  
Fine brush strokes created by a true master of acrylic brought to life an exquisite rendering of a black cat gazing up at the moon, brilliant cerulean eyes, redefining pulchritude. Selina had to have it if only for her personal collection. Though the artist was talented, it wasn't worth as much as other paradigm burglary attempts, except in a sentimental sort of way. Unfortunately the painting was huge and transporting it seemed rather quixotic. 

Selina hummer and tapped a finger against her chin. "If only it were a skosh smaller..." She lamented. 

Thwip-thunk! A bat themed projectile landed on the floor beside her. She did a double take when she realized it was a bright vermillion. "Ran out of black paint?" The cat burglar lowered her goggles and turned around with a smirk. She stumbled back with a yelp when she saw the source of the device. It wasn't Batman. It was a little boy! "Who are you?!"

The boy smirked instantly striking him as a weisenheimer in her books. "That's not an answer! Speak child or you shall be punished for your effrontery."

Then came the familiar deep voice she had grown so accustomed to. "Miss Kyle, fret not. I have taken this boy under my care so that the Batman title might be augmented. I figured tonight would be a good night to inure you to him."

"In that case you have my felicitations." She purred with a forced smile, turning up her duende to conceal her mumbled "and my sympathies." The cat made a dramatic display of bowing before snapping her whip to take her to safety. "I didn't steal anything this time!" She informed them as she broke into a run, the Bat and his partner in hot pursuit. 

"Maybe not tonight! But we've seen your record!" The boy shouted as he launched another projectile at her feet. 

"Why must we always play this game of cat and mouse? You'll catch me or I'll escape. If I go to jail I'll still escape. Don't you think your efforts could be better focused elsewhere?" Selina continued the persiflage. It was all part of their game. Then the boy threw a bola that she failed to notice. She hit the ground, barely catching herself with her hands. The boy expertly pulled her arms back and cuffed them together. 

Batman helped her to a sitting position, smiling softly. "I look forward to our next match Miss Kyle. Now I have other jobs to do."

Next thing she knew she was sitting in a cell, stripper of her equipment. She folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs. "Well, perhaps it's time I took in a rookie of my own..."  
~~~  
Selina wanted nothing more than to return to her nice warm apartment. It was raining cats and dogs, thunder had just begun. Her cat burgling was over for the night. She was almost home when she spotter a trembling curled up ball of a boy. "Well it appears that I have a kitten on my doorstep." There was no response, so she knelt down next to him. He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on the source of this feeling. Either way, this seemed the perfect opportunity to pick up a new partner in crime, presuming he agreed of course. If not... There were lots of other kids out there who would be willing. 

Looking at his face she knew who he was. She has seen him at the circus recently. He had lost his family there. Her visit had been brief, but even then he made an impression on her. He was a quick learner. After having no prior experience on the trapeze, he had seemed to be picking it up quickly. Yes. He would be prefect...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll probably be offline for a couple of days but I will try to get another chapter up as soon as possible :)


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